


With your charm and my academics

by Capostrophe



Series: At The End of the Day [3]
Category: Bread (TV)
Genre: Catholic-Protestant divide, Engagement, F/M, House-Hunting, Marriage, Proposals, Redecorating, Second marriage, Second wedding, Wallpapering, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capostrophe/pseuds/Capostrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another prequel to 'At the End of the Day'. In which proposals are made, houses are bought, mental battles are waged and putting wallpaper up results in war. And poor Nellie Boswell is forced to endure yet another Proddy wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With your charm and my academics

**Author's Note:**

> This one's set after the two other prequels but before 'At the End of the Day.'  
> This chapter includes references to Series 5, Episode 6, Series 1, Episode 1, and others, as well as some other textual references (read: Shirley Valentine).

 

**Late 1994-Early 1995**

It's in Martina's pigeon-hole of a flat that Joey awakes today, in a bed that barely fits its allocated space, all the furniture and various trimmings and trappings jam-packed into an area that in its entirety probably wouldn't have filled his Grandad's parlour. There's virtually no space to walk here, nor to sit, or breathe, even. When they move they're all but on top of each other, and Joey's never been claustrophobic, but he still finds it uncomfortable.

He can't complain, though, because it isn't as if they've somewhere better they could go. What with Martina's stubborn belief that hotels are 'cheap', no matter how exorbitant the establishment itself is, and the fact that he's now back with his family in Kelsall Street, where privacy doesn't exist, they're not exactly spoilt for choice.

Joey stares at the ceiling above him, counting the stains and the damp spots and the little patches where the hideous cream paint's peeled away, and yet again he wonders how she can stand it, being here all the time. He can't, and he only visits a few times a week. Granted, when she'd left Shifty she'd been anxious to get out, quick, to get away and get settled somewhere that held no memories of him, and she'd had to take whatever was available. He understands that. It's the fact that even now she has no intention of moving somewhere nicer, can't see any point in it. He's offered her money, even offered to pay her rent if she'll get herself a better flat, but this course of action always insults her, and anyway, she always tells him, she's perfectly all right where she is. She's _settled._

Martina doesn't like change. Never has, and that, in many cases, has been her downfall. It's why she still sticks with the worst job known to man, even though every day Joey sees new opportunities for positions that might suit her better. It's why she let Shifty back into her life so many times, stayed with him even when their whole existence together was a mire of depression and hopelessness. It's why she was so reluctant to let Joey into her life in the first place.

Joey wonders what she'd think if she knew about the changes he's envisioning right now. He's her polar opposite in that respect. Once Joey has an idea, he's anxious to get it up and running, once he's certain of an alteration he wants to make, he wants it made straight away.

And that's why he's already letting himself have these ideas, these dangerous thoughts. They haven't even lasted a full year yet, and there are still things to be sorted, discussions to be had, a painful past at each of their backs to leave behind. They're really only at the start of the 'fresh start' they've made with each other, and Martina's still adapting, still, at the odd moment, slipping back into the old ways and calling him 'Mister'. It's far too soon to be thinking about serious commitment and Joey fancies Martina's reaction will be dreadful- priceless, but dreadful- if he springs his idea on her while she's still coming to terms with what they have now.

Joey can scarce believe the turn of events himself. It's only two years since The Great Heartbreak, since the life he'd spent so many years dreaming up and working to build collapsed around him, since the woman all his romantic affection had been invested in for so long, had all left a gaping void in his heart. And not just her, but he'd lost the lad, too- a child he'd loved as his own. Even thinking his name hurts now, so he doesn't.

And yet he's already built this life for himself, for Martina, for _them_ , in such a short time, and is already planning out their next steps.

Martina stirs, the arm slung across his shoulders stretching, fingers flexing just below his ear, and Joey smiles. Watching Martina wake is well worth the nights spent in this cluttered little flat- the way her eyelids flutter, and the way she stubbornly screws her eyes more tightly closed for a moment, refusing to accept the coming of the morning before sighing and succumbing to it- it's all adorable, and he loves more than anything to help her along into the conscious state with a few kisses. He turns his head, only to find he's missed the show, her eyes are already open, large blue irises studying his face with intense concentration.

'Enjoyin' the view?'

'You 'ad that look on your face,' she says, rather than answering the question. 'You're plottin' somethin', aren't you?'

'Ah, you should know me well enough by now to know I'm _always_ plotting somethin',' he replies, beaming. 'My brilliant mind is always at work.'

She arches an eyebrow. 'Brilliant mind?'

'Well, I _am_ a bit of a genius, didn't you know?

'Bit of an egotist, more like.'

'Oh, you. That charming wit of yours.' He beams at the sleepy-yet-snide look on her face and kisses her. 'You know, with your charm and my academics, we could live in Gateacre.'

He's said that to her before. Then it was in jest. Now it's serious.

'Gateacre, Joey, is fer rich people.'

He grins wolfishly. 'Like me.'

'Oh, rich now, are yer?' She sits up. 'I think the Social Security will be interested to know that, _Mister_ Boswell.'

'You'd grass on the love of your life?'

'If I thought the so-called 'love of me life' was up ter no good, then yes, I would. I've never stopped bein' out to get you.'  
'What if I bribed you to keep your mouth shut?'

She pushes her hair off her face, folds her hands in her lap. 'And what would you bribe me with, pray?'

'With a great big house in Gateacre to call your very own.'

Martina rolls her eyes. 'I _told_ you, Joey, I _like me flat._ There's nothin' wrong with it. _'_

Joey looks at the patch of dry rot on the ceiling but refrains from passing comment.

'No, no, I didn't mean like that,' he takes both her hands in his, swinging them about a little until she glares at him to stop. 'It's just, I hate to think of you trapped in here- there's barely enough room to breathe…and don't get me wrong, bein' with me fam-i-ly is wonderful, it's just, _well_ , not the same as havin' somewhere of me own, and…'

He takes a breath. 'Perhaps, since you and I are so... _close_ ,' he demonstrates said closeness with a kiss, 'we could think about findin' alternative housin'. Together.'

'In Gateacre.'

'Naturally,' he grins, 'after all, it's the Boswell motto: the best things in life are expensive.'

' _I_ thought the motto was 'us and ours'. That's the one you preached to me the other day, when you tried ter claim fer that _ridiculous_ wheelchair for yer Grandad.'

'We have lots of mottos, sweetheart. Lots of mottos. That's what comes from havin' a big fam-i-ly, and all of 'em clever at…'

'At what?' He senses she's looking for an opening to catch him out about some scheme or other.

'At…comin' up with lots o' mottos,' he finishes with a blithe smile, and she tuts and rolls her eyes.

'What'd you say, then, lovely lady?'

'Movin' in together…' she hums, 'bit of a leap, isn't it?'

It's been nearly a year. Joey furrows his brow. If she thinks _that_ 's a leap, she's not going to like what he's got to say next.

'We-ell, that's not exactly what I 'ad in mind,' he tightens his grip on her hands, 'I was thinkin' more along the lines of you marryin' me.'

Martina's eyes double in size.

'I mean, fair go, sweetheart, I did just spring this on you- I'll understand if you need time to think about it-'

'I don't need ter think about it,' she interrupts.

Joey's smile stretches across his face. 'You don't?'

'No,' she snatches her hands back, 'because I'm _not_ gonna marry you.'

That instantly puts a damp sponge on his hope. The smile's still fixed on his face, but he can't feel it. A strangled laugh escapes him. He can't have heard right.

'No?'

'No.' He _has_ heard right.

'Oh.' He recoils. _'Oh.'_

'Well,' she drops her hands to her lap, 'now that _unpleasantness_ is over with, d'you want a cup of tea?'

Joey just stares. 'I don't understand you!' He's said it so many times- God put women on this earth to baffle. But Martina could out-baffle every other baffling woman in creation, sometimes. He leaps off the bed, paces across the room.

'How can you just go from sayin' you won't marry me to…to normal again!'

She lets out a hiss of breath. 'Joey, come back here and _sit down_ ,' she commands.

He draws closer and she grabs hold of his wrists, dragging him back to the bed and pushing him into a seated position.

'Now _listen_ , Joey Boswell,' she says crossly, 'you know full well that I love you- after all you put me through ter make me admit it, you'd _better_ know full well that I love you.'

'But then-'

'And you know _full well_ ,' she continues, daring him to interrupt her again, 'that I want ter be with you. Don't even ask me why.'

'Why?' Joey asks cheekily.

She sends a chill through him with her stare and he obediently wipes the rebellious smile from his face.

'Okay, okay, sweetheart. Carry on.'

'But I don't want ter marry you.'

'Because it's too soon?'

'It's not a question of _too soon_ , it's a question of _not ever._ '

Joey's more hurt than he lets on, but he still manages to make a joke out of it. He puts one hand across his chest.

'Well. You have wounded my ego, sweetheart.'

Martina raises her eyes to heaven. 'If only.'

'I mean it,' he tilts his head, 'I flatter meself to think that I would make the most magnificent, the most _amazin'_ husband this world has ever seen.' He pauses. 'This time around.'

Martina's mouth twitches.

'And you have cut that thought down like a great, lonesome tree, topplin' in the woods of…'

'All right, enough with yer heartrendin' imagery,' she shakes her head, 'I can't _bear_ any more of it. My tear ducts can't cope with your sad little stories.' Sarcasm. She's unmoved.

'Why not, then?'

Martina exhales through her nose. 'Because I am never gettin' married in me life, that's why.'

And that's all she says on the matter.

_Too soon_ , Joey thinks, _that's all it is, really._ And he does suppose hurts like Shifty go deep. To some extent, he's still the-boyfriend-after-Shifty, and his cousin's such a horrendous benchmark to be compared to. Martina's never really gotten over what happened- it's not that she'd still prefer Shifty back, it's more that after the way he treated her, after their painful separation, she's not all that comfortable with the idea of letting her guard down, with letting someone fully into her life again. Once Shifty had been embedded there, it took a lot of effort on her part to get him out, and that was after she'd endured years of heartbreak, stubbornly staying put, because stubbornly staying put and standing firm in her decisions is something he's discovered Martina likes to do.

And so, though she's let herself love Joey, despite her worries about the risks of getting involved with someone, grudgingly accepted thus far his unwavering devotion and fidelity (neither of which she had with Shifty), she's still wary enough, and still stubborn enough, to be quite adamant that they keep things casual indefinitely.

But Joey knows they'd be happy, if she'd take just one more little risk and let this be permanent.

* * *

For many years now, Joey's had a dream.

He's dreamed of a home of his very own, a family of his very own- a happy little life in a white house in Gateacre, where he'd come home to smiles and kisses and children on the lawn. He daydreams about this frequently. True, his daydream has changed a little since the olden days.

For many years, Roxy featured quite prominently in it, always waiting on the drive to greet him, then, as their relationship changed, her little son, Oscar, started to play a role, too. Joey imagined himself picking the lad up and swinging him around, the two of them collapsing on the lawn, laughing together. Even when Joey's marriage to Roxy was at its bleakest, when it was breaking down, when he'd look at both of them and wonder how long he had before he never saw them again, he kept this daydream in his mind, and with it the feeble hope that he could still fix things and have all this one day.

Joey's divorce changed his mind for a while. When Roxy went, so did the dream. He went two years without it.

And then, of course, he walked back into the Department of Social Security one day, with the intention of going back to his old life, and Martina was waiting for him behind the counter, like she always had been back in the day. And something happened.

He looked at her and something was different. And before he knew it, he was falling in love with her, and she with him, albeit after a shaky start, and when this happened, the dream came careening back to Joey, as if it had been merely let fly on a rubber band, not thrown away completely.

It's changed, of course.

The dream now consists not of Roxy, a family and a house, but Martina, a family and a house. And she's not smiling at him and greeting him, she's demanding where he's been, what time does he call this. But she's not angry, no, it's part of one of their many games, and they'll engage in a spirited verbal competition over it for hours to come.

It's a wonderful dream, a happy dream.

And he wants it to come true more than ever, now.

Joey's soppy at heart, he thinks. This must be what comes from being born into such a loving family, with so many brothers and sisters around you. The idea of a home and family is something ingrained into him, something that he's been raised to want out of life.

And he wants it badly. Always has.

And somehow, in some way, he wants to convince Martina that she might, conceivably, in some part of her brain, want it too.

* * *

Joey goes to Adrian for advice.

He chooses Adrian over his other siblings because, although he eloped in Scotland with Irenee at the same time Joey did with Roxy, his marriage has been infinitely more happy and fulfilling. Being the hopeless romantic that he is, Adrian writes a new poem for Irenee every week, and though she always seems bored by the artistic side of his brain, prefers the simple things in life, all these sonnets and ballads and declarations of love must have some effect on her, because they've got two children already and are expecting a third.

That's what Joey thinks of the situation, anyway. And all that aside, Adrian's the least likely to laugh at him.

His brother contemplates for a long time before he gives him an answer.

'Why don't you get her a ring? A proper engagement ring- make a proper gesture, instead of just matter-of-factly asking whether she'd like to get married. Make it all _meaningful_ \- soft lighting and silken kisses, a moment that can't be forgotten.. _._ '

Beside him, Irenee rolls her eyes and pats his hand. 'You got him at a bad time, Joey. He's working on a book of romantic poetry. He was bound to come out with something like that.'

'Well maybe, son, maybe,' Joey says, but he's frowning. Martina doesn't respond well to romantic gestures, not anymore. Another way Shifty's damaged her mind.

But the straightforward approach has already failed, so maybe a bit more of a grand gesture is just what's in order here.

* * *

And so it is that, at about one in the morning one night, he slides out from her arms, goes and retrieves the ring box he's been keeping in the glove compartment of his Jag. Perhaps he'll leave it somewhere for her to find, he decides- only where? Her flat is tiny, and though she's fastidious about cleaning it the lack of size means there's still always clutter everywhere, because there just isn't _room_ for everything. And he doesn't want it to be lost forever. It has to be somewhere fairly accessible- but not so blatantly obvious that she'll come upon it instantly and get mad.

He'll gently build up the idea of marriage to her, and then, as she's getting used to the idea, coming round, she'll come across it, and that'll clinch it.

Hopefully.

Joey sits down on his side of the bed, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle open the drawer of the bedside table without making too much noise. It's crammed in so close between the bed and the wall that the drawer scrapes and squeals its way out, and then Martina's waking, rolling over and staring at him through squinty eyes.

'What's that?' she asks sleepily, eyeing the box in his hand. She reaches over and turns the lamp on.

'Oh, nothin',' Joey says, getting up from the bed and holding out of reach just as she scrambles up and makes a lunge for it.

'Gimme.'

'It's not _for_ you.'

'Then who is it for? That's what I'd like to know.'

Joey sighs. 'Oh, okay, you win. It's for…well, it's for _us,_ I suppose. But you mightn't like it, so I'll just put it away…'

'Give it to me,' she demands, more alert now, and before he has time to think she's tackled him to the mattress, pinning him with as much force as she can while she uses both hands to wrestle the box from his grasp.

'Let _go_ , Joey. Don't think I won't hurt you.'

'You don't need to see it just yet-'

Too late. She's snatched it from him, and he sees her face turn to surprise as she opens the box and cops a load of its contents.

'What's this?'

He chews on the inside of his cheek. It should be obvious.

'Joey, what _is_ this?'

Doesn't she know? Doesn't she realise?

She sounds angry now. 'What-is- _this?'_

Joey finds his voice, smiles naughtily, though her reaction upsets him somewhat. 'You're a clever girl, sweetheart. What do you think it is?'

'If I didn't know better,' her voice is dangerously calm, and that's worse than if she'd merely shouted, 'I'd say it was an engagement ring.'

'It is.'

'I thought I'd made me views very clear on this.'

He groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. 'Yeah, but sweetheart…'

'This, Joey,' she waves the box in the air, 'is a _pathetic_ attempt ter get me to change me mind. You can't bribe me like this- you should know that by now.' She takes another look at the ring, then tosses the box aside. ' _And_ it's hideous.'

Joey's affronted. He'd chosen it very carefully, spent far too much on it.

'What's wrong with it?'

' _Look_ at it! It looks like a bloody golf ball!'

'Well, all right, maybe the stone's big, but…'

'Big? I'd need a support fer me arm if I was wearin' this!' She pauses. 'How much did this set yer back?'

He's ashamed to say.

'Sevenhundredandfiftyquid,' he mutters into his shoulder.

Martina lets out a snort. 'You'd better pray like _mad_ they'll do a refund on it.'

'I thought all women liked expensive jewellery.'

'You can carry somethin' to excess, you know. 'Expensive' doesn't always mean 'better'. And that ring is about the most untasteful thing I've ever seen in me life.'

This is a deliberate blow, he knows. Joey's always prided himself on his taste and style. Maybe, though, he thinks, he did go a bit overboard on this ring- but that was the desperation clouding his mind.

'I'll exchange it for a smaller one…'

'I don't _want_ a smaller one!'

'Then what _do_ you want?!'

'Nothing!' She snaps. 'I don't want _anythin'!'_

'Not even me?'

'Oh, of _course_ I want _you_ \- oh, why are you makin' this so difficult?!' She cries out in frustration, flops back against the bed. 'Why can't you just leave things as they are?'

Joey shuffles up close, lays down beside her. Martina's still and silent for a while, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to meet his eye.

He reaches over, strokes her shoulder. Martina sighs, turns on her side to face him. Her face is pensive, her eyes clouded with a sadness he doesn't know the cause of.

'I would if I could, Joey.'

He blinks. She touches his arm.

'I'd marry yer if I could,' she repeats. 'But I can't.'

'Got some secret husband hidin' out in Europe, have you?' he teases, but she's not in the mood. Not now.

'Look, it's taken me…no, I don't think I even _have_ gotten past everythin' that 'appened with Shifty, even now. It hurt so much- I just don't think I could ever…'

'Hey,' he says. 'I've been hurt too. I understand. It took me longer than you to realise Roxy was no good for me- and by that time she'd already left me for someone else. I didn't even get to make the decision to better me life on me own- I was forced into it. You did.'

She nods.

'And just because we've 'ad some bad experiences,' he runs his fingers through her hair, working to unravel a knot he's found in it, 'doesn't mean all long-term relationships- all marriages- are like that, does it, sweetheart?'

'But my life's been _all_ bad experiences. One after the other.'

'Not all,' Joey reminds her. 'Remember how ridiculous you got when you realised you loved me? You took a chance on me, though, didn't you- and have I let you down or given you any grief?'

'No,' she admits, and then gives him a wry smile, 'no more than you _usually_ did, anyway.'

'Well, there you are, you see,' he presses his lips to hers, coaxes her into a kiss. 'I love you.'

'I love you too,' she says, sighing heavily. 'But I want ter keep things as they are now.'

'Okay, sweetheart,' he desists, resigned to the fact that this proposal's been a dead loss. 'If that's what you want.'

Martina yawns. 'Take the ring back, Joey. And don't ever let me see it again.' Back to her stern self- this indicates the conversation is over.

She shuts her eyes, and her breathing evens out after a while. Joey watches her sleep and thinks.

She's just so stubborn, and just too untrusting for her own good. All her reasons make sense, but they're not _fair_ , they're just not fair. He's never going to give her pain or heartbreak. Or at any rate, he'll do his utmost not to.

He'll always be there for her- he just needs to make her see it.

He doesn't give up.

* * *

The Social Security building is packed, which doesn't exactly bode well for his mission. After all, forty odd heads turning to stare at you can't be good for a private, life-changing sort of moment, but Joey goes ahead with it anyway, because the other day an idea came to him, one which he thinks just might get results.

Joey and Martina work, Joey realises, because of the competitive dynamic between them, more than anything else. At first, when they'd first gotten together, he'd fretted that perhaps they'd merely clung to each other, both the victims of terrible failed relationships, bonded by mutual unhappiness. But he'd quickly chased the thought away, because nearly every conversation they have reminds him just why they fit together.

Everything, _everything_ they say is part of a little game. They test and stretch each other's minds, always looking for a way to go one better than the other, always looking for a way to win the argument, even when there's no argument to win. They taunt and tease and put each other down, but they know deep down it's all playful, all in jest, and they like it. They enjoy the battles. And somehow, though he can't explain why, the more they fight against one another, the closer they become. It doesn't make sense, but it's what they have, and it works.

And the arena for the most spectacular of their battles is always the DHSS- for obvious reasons. He will always be a Boswell and she will always be a DHSS lady, and as long as these two facts remain constant, there will always be a good game to be had over the partition, with benefit fraud and excuses and regulations and cheats as pieces on the chessboard.

It's where they work best.

So it might be a lucky place for him. Third time lucky. That'd be great.

'Greetings!' he begins as always, dropping himself into the chair with a resplendently stylish manoeuvre.

'What do you want, Mister Boswell?' She may be in love with him, but her attitude toward him in this building will never change. No matter. He plays along.

'A great many things, sweetheart. As you know, I do have a large fam-i-ly's needs to see to.'

'Go on.' She doesn't look up from whatever she's writing.

'I will require from you, my dear little DHSS lady, a form for me Grandad- now eighty-one and frailer than ever, he will require a little help with mobility, and hence we will be purchasing a wheelchair.'

She's about to make a retort, to start up the banter, but he ploughs on.

'I will also need you to present me with a form for our Billy- he's gettin' a new van for his business, after his old one sadly packed it in and could not be resuscitated- oh, and one more thing … your hand in marriage.'

Martina stops short. She raises her head, seething annoyance written all over her face.

'NEXT!'

Well, so much for that idea.

Joey is pushed from his chair by a cranky middle-aged lady who wants to complain about her washing line, he has to leave, and he realises with a sigh that the moment has passed.

* * *

'If she doesn't wanna marry you,' Billy says, his mouth stuffed with at least three Brussels sprouts, bits of which he's spitting as he talks, 'why do you keep askin' 'er?'

It's only the two of them and Nellie, these days. The others have their own lives to live, their own dinners with their own families.

Joey scoffs. 'And 'ow many times did you ask Julie?'

'That was different,' Billy defends. 'She 'ad my baby.'

'Oh- so in your opinion, you 'ave to have 'ad babies before you can get married?'

'Well, no, but…how d'you think it looked, havin' a baby and not bein' married? It was embarrassing!'

'So you asked her to save your own reputation, is that it, son?' Joey's irritated, and hence his words are blunt this evening.

'Because I… I love 'er!' Billy says, then realises and changes it, 'I _loved_ her. At the time, you know!' He laughs uncomfortably.

'And I wanted to be with her, to have…a life, and a family, and it would be all nice and…together…'

That's probably one of the most sensible things Billy's ever said.

'Well, those are my thoughts exactly, son,' Joey says. 'That's what I want.'

'That's what you wanted with Roxy, too!' says Billy tactlessly, opening an old wound without knowing what he's doing. 'Look how that ended! Both of us got divorces, didn't we? Stay away from marriage, that's what I've learned.'

'Don't pester Joey about Roxy, Billy!' Nellie's returned from bringing Grandad's tray at the worst of times. 'You know how hard it is for him to get over that!'

'Well he must be over it,' Billy doesn't hesitate to spill Joey's private troubles over the table for all to see, 'he's asked Martina to marry 'im three times!'

'Bill-y!' Joey shouts.

Nellie looks from one to the other, eventually settling on Joey.

'Oh,' she says, and it's not in a sympathetic way, 'not again, Joey! Not so soon! You're leaping from marriage to marriage like a tree frog! You'll have had seven wives by the time you're dead.'

'That's called bigamy,' says Billy, and gets glares from Joey and Nellie both.

'Look, Mam, I'm not gonna end up with seven wives! It's just…when you're sure of somethin', you know…' he can't quite finish the sentiment. 'Anyway, it's not gonna happen. She keeps turnin' me down. Doesn't wanna marry me.' He plants his elbow on the table and rests his head on his fist.

His Mam sighs loudly. 'What d'you keep askin' her for if she doesn't wanna marry you?'

Oh, it's no use talking to these two.

* * *

'I love you,' Joey growls through his teeth, his lips finding Martina's neck. 'I love you.'

'Shut up, Joey,' she grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks, tugging his mouth back up to hers.

'I love you so much,' he trails kisses over her jaw, back down over her throat.

'I know,' she shuts her eyes, her breath hitches, _'I know.'_

'Marry me.'

She freezes, muscles in her arms tensing as she puts her hands against his chest. 'Get off me.'

Another needle of hurt plunges into his vein. 'Why not, Martina? _Please.'_

' _No_.' She shoves him. 'Get _off_ me.'

'Martina…'

' _Off._ ' She wriggles away, across to the other side of the sofa and folds her arms.

Joey sighs, disappointment clouding his vision. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn't have said that.'

She pulls her knees up to her chest, wraps her arms around them, staring off into space. Joey studies her. The idea upsets her so much, and he just can't see why. A little apprehensive maybe, but she's acting as if he's suggested he murder her.

He knows Martina's been hurt, that she doesn't dive into things now. That's fine. That's okay. He's accepted that. He thinks back to when he first told her he loved her, all the hurtful words she used to try and drive him away, determined that she wouldn't start anything up with anyone again. She's stubborn like that, still thinks that pretending not to care means she can get away without any sort of hardship, ever- even when it's been proven to her so many times that that never is and never will be the case. It took her so long to even admit she loved him too, and when she did she immediately started laying out all these rules to ensure there were no unnecessary upheavals.

And Joey's accepted all that because he knows it must be hard for her, knows that everything that's happened with Shifty, everything that's happened before him, everything in her life has been fraught with tragedy, and she's justifiably wary.

But they're happy now. And he's made every effort to make sure she knows, at all times that he loves her, that he's there for her and always will be, he's not going anywhere unless she decides to make the break.

It isn't as if he hasn't been hurt too, though she forgets that far too often. If anyone should be shy of marriage it's him, after a failed year and a half with Roxy that ended up with her kicking him out, taking the kid and what was left of his hopes and dreams. He still cries about that often enough, when he dwells on it for long periods of time, but he's still gotten over it well enough to get on with his life, has found new and unexpected happiness with her. It's certainly not what he's expected from life, but now he's got it, this unexpected happiness, he wants to hold onto it.

She loves him. He knows she does. But to her, commitment still equals pain. He'll have to teach her a new equation.

'I'm sorry,' he repeats, even though he's not. He shuffles closer, kisses her right on the cheekbone. She screws up her face.

'I know it intimidates you, the idea of bein' married to the most handsome and charmin' man of your acquaintance.' It might not be the most sensitive approach, but having four younger siblings has taught him that sometimes the best way to cure an unwarranted bad mood is to use humour.

Martina's jaw drops. Her head rotates on her neck, and then she's giving him a look he knows well. 'I don't know where ter start on that sentence.'

'Admittin' it's true, are you?'

' _Most certainly not_. You can't be serious! _Me,_ bein' intimidated by the likes o' _you?_ Not in a million years, Mister Boswell!'

Back on the right track, then. 'T'other half's true.'

She scoffs. 'Er- handsome and charmin'? _You_?'

'Well, I think the evidence speaks for itself,' he gestures up and down his body, and gets a laugh out of her.

'When was the last time you went to the optician?'

She's no longer upset, and Joey feels it's safe to rub her shoulders, put his arm round her, kiss her lightly.

But he won't push her again- not for a while. He's learned his lesson.

* * *

It's overcast outside, but somehow pleasantly so, and they take a walk along the dockside after Joey picks her up from work, the breeze in their hair and the cawing of birds providing background noise.

'We could still get that house in Gateacre.'

She frowns. 'This isn't _another_ proposal, is it?'

'No, sweetheart, don't fret. I won't push you about that.' He sits down on the bench, and she joins him.

It's a little chilly now, he sees her rub her hands together and he grabs them, clasping them in his to warm them.

'I'm not gonna push you about that,' Joey repeats, 'but you said yourself you still want to be with me, didn't you? It's not such a big leap as marriage, but…you know, it's still commitment.'

She looks at him. 'I don't know.'

'Martina, I want to give you _something_ ,' he squeezes her hands tighter, 'I wanna show you _somehow_ just how much you mean to me- how much _us_ means to me. To show you it's forever, if you want it to be.'

'Forever doesn't 'appen,' Martina stares at something a few feet to his left, 'everyone in my life, Joey, _everyone_ I've loved has either abandoned me or hurt me in the end. I'm not puttin' meself on the line only for somethin' like that to happen yet again.'

' _I_ won't.'

'I don't know that, do I?' She shoves her hands in her pockets, crosses her ankles tightly, an instinctive curling-up action she tends to do when she remembers the past and is upset.

'You _do_ know that,' Joey says firmly. 'I'm not Shifty, and I'm not your brother. I have been brought up in a family so close that stickin' together, in my mind, is the best thing you can do. I am the one and only Joey Boswell, who you yourself have said is impossible to shake off. I will hang around you until you get so annoyed with me bein' there that you have to dispose of me body in the river to get rid of me.'

She laughs then, and he knows he's said something right.

'If you knew how many times I've thought o' disposin' your body in the river over the years…'

'You lie. You were _ever_ so fond of me, even right back at the beginning.'

'Oh, I was, was I?'

'That little flirty smile you used to give me, I remember it well…'

'I never gave you a _flirty smile!_ '

'Oh you did, sweetheart, you did. Practically every visit, right up until you first started seein' Shifty,' he freezes, realises maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. He keeps going, hoping she'll let it slip. 'Sometimes even after.'

'If I was smilin', it was because I 'ad a plan to catch you out.'

'Ah, yes, the way you used to say 'I'm out to get you, Mister Boswell,' with that minxish look on your face…sounded positively _seductive!'_

'It did not!'

'Are you honestly sayin', sweetheart- can you look me in the eye and tell me you weren't wildly attracted to me?'

She looks him in the eye, trying her utmost, credit where credit is due, to keep a poker face. 'I have never, Mister Boswell,' she says, 'been attracted to that bloated ego o' yours.' But she's blushing.

'You didn't answer me question. I wasn't askin' about me ego, now, was I?' He nudges her lightly in the ribs.

Martina flinches and immediately folds her arms around her middle. Joey frowns at the reflex. And then he realises, and he grins.

'You're ticklish.'

'No I'm not.' But she's inched away from him.

His grin increases threefold. 'Yes, you _are._ Oh, I can use this to my advantage, sunshine!'

'Don't you dare.'

He pounces.

'Stop it!' she says with a squeal that's high-pitched and completely unlike her. She squirms and splutters and tears of laughter start to roll down her face. 'You'll-regret-this-,' each word is punctuated by a laugh, '-Joey!'

Joey pauses. 'Go on- admit it- admit you fancied me.'

'Never, Mister Boswell!'

He resumes.

'All right! All right! I did!'

Joey lets go of her, satisfied in the knowledge that he's won this round, and she collapses against his shoulder, still laughing.

'I knew you fancied me back then.'

'Oi,' she's still getting her breath back, 'confessions under duress don't hold up in a court o' law, you know.'

'Oh, you would have told me one way or another…'

Her laughter slowly subsides, and she sighs, gazing into the distance, her face turning serious again.

'I meant what I said though,' Joey says gently. 'I'd never abandon you.'

Martina turns around, and he can see a conflict waging on her face, as if she's on the throes of a life-changing decision.

She takes both his hands in hers, looks up at him, her eyes big and blue and trusting.

'Marry me,' she says.

He jumps. 'Say _what?'_

'You 'eard what I said, _Mister Boswell_.' She raises her eyebrows, and she's gone from soft and gentle to taunting in three seconds flat.

'What happened to you were never gettin' married ever in your life?' he smirks, though his insides are all having a champagne party. She's changed her mind. _She's changed her mind._

'I might be willin' to reconsider that- so long as you behave yerself.'

Joey wants to jump up and down, like Billy so frequently did when he was five and found out he was getting sweets. She wants to marry him. The family life dream floods back into his system.

But instead of letting on just how excited he is, he keeps his cool. Even this proposal is one of their little battles, their little games, and he's still going to try to win it.

' _Well_ , I might need to consider this…' he scratches his chin, trying to come over as thoughtful, putting on the voice of a girlish heroine from a '30s film, 'I mean, sweetheart, what can I say? This is all so _sudden…'_

She thwacks him. 'I could change me mind, you know. Be thankful I've deigned ter do this at all.'

'Oh, I am, Martina, I am- but really, is that best proposal you could come up with, sweetheart?' He nudges her. 'Go on. Do it properly. On one knee.'

'Oh, yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, let me tell you, Joey Boswell, the day I grovel on me knees in front o' you will be the day you see yer potential breakfast bacon grow wings.'

'I don't eat _bacon_ , dear lady. You _know_ I'm a vegetarian.'

'Well then, the day hell freezes over. I trust you're familiar with _that_ expression?'

Joey merely laughs, takes her face in his hands. 'Oh, go on. A quick grovel won't hurt…I won't ever bring it up again. I promise I won't tease you about it forever after… _much_.'

'Hmm, no, you know, I think I've gone off the idea again.' She gets up, makes to walk away.

Joey reacts fast. 'No, wait, Martina!' He flings himself off the bench dramatically, lands on his knees and feels an unpleasant scrape- he knows they'll graze something spectacular, even through leather trousers, knows he's lucky they didn't both dislocate. 'Of _course_ I'll marry you! Don't reconsider!'

She turns back, takes him in, the smugness of victory written all over her face. She's managed to win the game once again.

'Oh, stop yer beggin',' she says, putting a hand on the top of his head patronisingly. 'I'll let you marry me.'

* * *

And Joey does not intend to give her chance to change her mind. He's got an engagement ring on her (a new one, smaller this time) within a day. Martina makes an obligatory grumble about its gaudiness, how much it cost, how unnecessary it is. But when she thinks he's not looking, he catches her admiring it.

_Score Joey Boswell_.

Within another day, he's gone and gotten a lot of housing brochures and deposited them on her desk.

She looks up from her forms. 'What's all this?'

He winks. 'Have a look.'

She narrows her eyes, slides them towards herself across the counter with a hesitant suspicion.

'These are 'ouses.'

'Gold star for you, sweetheart.'

'What 'ave they got ter do with me?'

Joey shifts closer conspiratorially. 'Oh, they have a lot to do with you, sweetheart. Who knows, one of them may be yours!'

She catches on immediately, and refuses to so much as look at the brochures during working hours, is blasé about them when he tries to go through them with her outside of work.

But when she thinks he's not listening, she picks up one and mutters that she quite likes the sound of it.

_Score Joey Boswell_.

He arranges with the estate agents for them to look round it the next day.

* * *

Joey had a dream once. A dream about a house in Gateacre, a loving wife and a happy life. The first part's come true, and the second is within his grasp.

They've signed all the papers, done all the deeds, Martina's made a few snide comments about where the money for the mortgage is coming from, and the keys have finally turned up. The place is as good as theirs, and after the wedding they're going to devote a week or two to doing it up before they move in.

Joey can't bottle up his enthusiasm, despite Martina's disapproving stares. He's overflowing with ideas- where the sofa can go, when they get one, what colour they should do the awnings, perhaps they can change the tiles in the kitchen too. He's like a man possessed, but then he's entitled to be, he thinks. It's everything he's wanted, gift-wrapped and laid before him. It is, in his mind, the first proper place of his own. He'd had a place with Roxy, true, but it had been grey and dark and full of the memories of devastating fights, and had been as far from Kelsall Street as his first wife could manage, a deliberate attempt on her part to keep him from running to his Mam every time a phone call came. This place seems more real, more like a home, more like _his_ home, not just somewhere he can stay.

Martina gives no more than the odd approving nod or non-committal noise, but it soon becomes clear enough to Joey that secretly she's thrilled. The sheer size of the place, especially in comparison to that cupboard she's got to live in, as well as the fact that it's something that belongs to her, something she never expected to have, are all adding to an excitement it takes her utmost concentration to contain.

Joey watches her go about the house, touching tap fittings and banisters, gazing out the upstairs windows at the view and the sunny estate, reaching her arms out and basking in all the light and _space_ \- and then hurriedly stopping whichever of these she's doing and pretending she's indifferent when she notices him observing her.

He laughs and teases her about it until she gets the hump. But she's still happy- he can see it, and he's glad.

Joey's spoiling her and he knows it- even more so than he did with Roxy, because this time around he wants everything to be perfect, and what's more, it's worth it to see that excited smile, the one she can't hide until it's already been spotted. She hasn't had much out of life so far, and Joey wants to make sure she gets her money's worth.

And at last he's getting what he always wanted, too- his idyllic little picture of a home and family. True, it's not exactly as he imagined in the beginning, and true, a part of him still sighs sadly at the fact that Oscar's not here with them, but he's more than content with what he's ended up with.

Joey had a dream once. A dream about a house in Gateacre, a loving wife and a happy life. And though only one part of it's come true to date, the second is on its way.

The wedding's in three weeks.

And he's certain that after that, the third part will follow.

* * *

Nellie Boswell, naturally, is not happy about her son's choices for this wedding.

'What d'you mean, you're not going to have a reception?' she demands, 'what d'you mean, you're not gonna have the wedding in a Catholic church? Am I doomed to sit through Proddy wedding after Proddy wedding? _Why_ , Joey?'

Joey's been through this about twelve times, and he's a bit sick of the question. 'You know Father Dooley won't do it. The Catholic church doesn't believe in divorce. They wouldn't recognise our marriage.'

This immediately prompts Nellie to go into one of her usual irrational rants, beginning with _well then maybe doesn't that tell you something about what you are doing_ and then changing direction completely and going along the lines of _your first marriage wasn't recognised though, because Roxy was divorced, so technically you haven't been married, so why won't you consider it, Joey?_

'Mam, it's no sweat, it's easier if we do it this way- look, Oswald can do it, no fuss!'

Nellie nearly goes out of her mind when she hears that.

All the others drop by to offer various pieces of advice, some more helpful than others.

'Oswald thinks I look dead gorgeous when I wear me rhinestone earrings.'

'Good to know, Princess.'

'Eh, when I was married to Julie, she used to go off her rocker if I left all me sandwich ingredients all over the house.'

'Er- I'll bear that in mind, Billy. Thanks.'

'I thought I might recite a poem I'd written about you and Martina, you know, during the ceremony. I can give you a taste now, if you'd like…'

'Hey- that's great, Adrian, but, er…don't wanna spoil the surprise now, do we?' Joey's tactful way of getting out of having to hear it twice.

In the end, it's Freddie's words that stay with Joey.

'She's a good woman, son,' he says, 'pink as a rose, but she's got the thorns to match. A bit like your mother, really!' He chuckles, and Joey can only think it's a good thing Nellie's out the room. Any comment like that, innocent as it is, would be instant grounds for a shouting match.

Freddie touches his shoulder. 'Look after her.'

'Oh, I will,' Joey says. 'Don't you worry about that.'

'What are you talking about in there?' comes Nellie's voice. 'You'd better not be mentioning Lilo Lil- SHE IS A TART!'

'I'd better make me escape,' said Freddie, slapping his moth-eaten cap onto his head, 'I'll see you at the weddin'.'

* * *

It's a great distance short of fancy. The guest list is restricted to three of Martina's friends (her brother's still on the run from the law, and her parents, she informs Joey, are _not_ invited) as well as the immediate members of the Boswell clan.

Martina wears a summer dress that's part of her regular rotation, Joey turns up looking, as usual, like Mr Leather-Man, but with a bow tie that everyone says gives him the appearance of a waiter.

And, of course, the service is held in a Proddy church, and, of course, Oswald performs the ceremony, and, of course, Nellie moans before it's even begun that it's going to be the worst wedding she's ever been to.

But when Joseph Frederick Boswell takes Martina Pamela Shirley McKenna to be his lawful wedded wife, the Boswell matriarch still snuffles into her handkerchief.

* * *

They tear down all the wallpaper, just because it's their house and they can do what they like with it, and then spend at least a week arguing over what colour and pattern should replace it.

Decorating and furnishing their new abode isn't easy.

Joey wants a leather sofa. Martina refuses even to entertain the notion.

Martina opts for furniture that's understated, durable. Joey is instantly drawn to the biggest, fanciest and most pricey pieces in the shop.

Every single aspect of painting, decorating and refurbishing results in hours of bickering. But it always ends up being worth it. And the issue of the wallpaper is no exception.

'Don't stand on the ladder like that- you'll kill yerself!' Joey's balancing from the top rung, something everyone knows you're not supposed to do, but which he's done and gotten away with several times in his life before.

'Ah, don't sweat,' he calls down to Martina, 'I have no fear. I know that you will catch me in your arms if I fall.'

'Don't count on it. It'll serve you right if you break yer neck.' She frowns. 'And watch what you're doin' with that- you're not linin' it up right!'

They've finally agreed on a wallpaper they can both tolerate, if not one they both like, but despite Joey finally convincing Martina to concede and let him buy the more expensive brand, he's not enjoying doing this. The strip of paper in his hands just isn't doing what he wants it to.

'I have done decoratin' jobs before,' he reassures her, 'I know what I'm doin'.' Not in years, though, he hasn't. The last time he tried, Billy sat in the corner and watched him, then decided he could have a go on his own. They'd ended up having to pay the woman whose house it was double what Joey had intended to charge for the damages they made.

'Oh, you 'ave, 'ave you?' Martina sounds far too interested. 'Gettin' a bit o' cash in on the side, were you?'

'And who says I was getin' paid, sweetheart? It was a dear old lady, friend of the fam-il-y's, who needed a bit of assistance, and I, in my great kindness…'

'Got thirty pounds or so paid straight into yer pocket?'

'Where do you get this suspicious mind?' He smooths out the top of the strip, begins to work his way down.

'Joey.'

'I mean, just because I own a luxurious car, and we've bought a luxurious house and I happen to have a taste for leather doesn't necessarily mean I'm involved in…'

'Joey-'

'Anythin' the Social Security would say is…'

' _Joey!_ '

He pauses, turns awkwardly on the ladder.

'Look what you've done.' She points, and Joey's eyes widen as he realises his mistake. This is the second strip of wallpaper he's put up, and though he's eventually managed to line it up so there are no gaps, the pattern is running the opposite way.

'Know what you're doin', eh?'

'It was a mistake anyone could have made, sweetheart,' he says, refusing to let her claim this round for herself. He takes hold of the ends of the strip and pulls it off.

It tears right down the middle.

Martina snickers. Joey just stares at it forlornly.

'I told you when we bought it that wallpaper wasn't good quality.'

'But…it should be- the amount I paid for it…'

She puts one hand on her hip. 'Joey, there's something I think it's high time you learned- outside your little Boswell bubble- in the _real_ world, 'expensive' is _not_ always synonymous with 'better.''

'But it _is_ ,' he insists, 'the best things in life are expensive, remember?'

'If you carry on sayin' that, I think I might 'ave ter tell the Social Security just 'ow many expensive things you've got and 'aven't declared…'

Joey's struck by an idea. 'No, you won't. You won't grass on the love of your life.'

'And what makes you think I won't?'

Joey walks across to where they've left all the various decorating implements, roots around until he finds a brush they haven't put glue on yet. He runs the bristles over his fingers, makes a note of the sensation.

When he turns back he's grinning. 'Because I just remembered somethin'.'

'Oh,' she has both hands on her hips now, 'and what might that be?'

He strides over to her, pulls the brush from behind his back and lightly brushes it over her neck. She flinches.

'You're ticklish.'

'Keep away from me,' she warns, taking two steps back. 'I mean it.'

'And what'll you do?' he sees her eyes glint in response, and then she's grabbed the brush from the pot of paste, and holds it threateningly.

'That's got glue on it, that one,' Joey points out.

'Oh, _good_ ,' says Martina wickedly, and she hits him with it.

Joey stands still, eyes widening comically as he takes in the glue already beginning to congeal on his clothes. He looks back up at Martina, and she's smirking.

'Of course, you know, this means war.' He dips his own brush in the paste.

They don't get much work done after that.

* * *

'Don't make a big fuss about this, sweetheart,' Joey says as they sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, watching the remains of the wallpaper burn, paste drying in their hair, 'but perhaps you may have been right on this occasion.'

Martina's face is smug.

'P'raps next time I tell you to do somethin', you'll do it.'

'Oh, I wouldn't count on _that_ , Martina.' He nudges her. 'I said on _this_ occasion.'

'Tsk. I knew that wouldn't last.' She sighs. 'At least tell me when we buy the new stuff you'll put the paper up so the patterns _match_.'

Entertaining as the skirmish with the paste was, Joey's not sure he wants to go through this again. 'You know, I think I'll get a man in to finish the job.'

Martina looks at him in amused disbelief. 'And what 'appened to _I've done decoratin' jobs before, I know what I'm doin'?_ '

'Oh, I do, sweetheart, I do. But it would free up a lot of time for me to spend lavishin' me attention on you.' He kisses her, but only a peck- she tastes like glue.

'Gettin' a man in would cost a lot extra.'

'Well, you know the motto- the best things in life…'

She swats him before he can finish the sentence.


End file.
